


Ticklemon Redux

by Aoede



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Fake Amnesia, Fish Out of Dimensional Water, Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual Tickling, Other, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoede/pseuds/Aoede
Summary: What if Ash had tried but ultimately failed to physically return to his own world in theCave of Mirrors!episode? How far would he have fallen into the mysterious void and where would he have ended up? As it turns out, into another very different world altogether with a very interesting but more humiliating fighting style among a vast array of very, very different kinds of monsters with only hints of the ones he knows; as well as friends and foes and obstacles old and new.A brand new, slightly embarrassing trainer adventure awaits our Ash! (Who still has some hope of returning home, but must go a long way to master his life in this new timeline before he'll ever find that chance.) How will he do? Read on, pokéfans old and new!
Relationships: Ookido Shigeru | Gary Oak & Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Satoshi's Pikachu | Ash Ketchum's Pikachu, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Takeshi | Brock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Episode One:  A Sink Between Worlds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelBoy/gifts).



Teeth gritted, Ketchum tucked Pikachu under his arm with a roar of “D’aaah!” as he made a desperate leap across the glowing kaleidoscopic void. Time seemed to slow, and the air around him felt thick. Keeping his gaze locked on the little triangle tear back into his own dimension, he continued to will himself forward.

He felt relieved when his right sneaker struck solid ground – but quickly felt a jolting cold pulse as it slipped, sending him sliding back down. Mind racing, he flinched, lifting Pikachu and giving him a high-arching toss toward their reality. His best pokemon friend had never dragged him down, ever – and he refused to do the same to him.

“AaaAaah!” the boy hollered, arm still outstretched, fingers splayed helplessly as his reality and the Mirror World swept higher and smaller. “Take care of Pikachu! I’ll be back OK?! I PROMISE!”

"PIKAPI!" said pokemon cried with a flail.

“ASH!” Clemont yelped – moments before getting a faceful of jagged yellow tail that knocked him back like a bowling pin “GMPH!” hitting the ground and sliding back into the far wall with a conk. He and Pikachu lay in a heap with dizzied eyes and quiet groans.

The jagged black-haired boy had told his timid doppleganger not to cry – but couldn’t help tears himself “I don’t know where I’m going, but I WILL find you again, Pikachu, EVERYbody…!” as he continued to plummet, down, down, down into Arceus-knew-where.  
___

The next thing he knew, Ash felt a solid though cushiony surface beneath him. Lids fluttering, he opened them slowly, recognizing a Pokemon Center ceiling. “Huh? …where…where am I?” Body aching as if he’d hit the ground after blacking out, he struggled to a sit, half-flinching, lips twitching over gritted teeth. “Ow…OWow…nngh…” With a few blinks to clear his vision, he found himself staring down at his jeans in a daze – and amazingly recognized the pair, muttering “Whoa, I’m back in the Johto region? How –?”

“Heyyy, Ash, you’re awake!” came a very familiar voice.

“Brock?!” the jagged black-haired one uttered, blinking more rapidly now, looking up at one of his very first travelling companions, grinning widely as more joyful tears slipped down his cheeks. “It’s so good to see you again!”

The tan one raised a brow. “Ash, are you feeling all right? I’ve only been gone for ten minutes!”

“U-Uhh, well…” Ketchum began, clutching at his head to scratch it, eyes darting. “I…think I must’ve hit my head pretty hard. Everything hurts and I – er, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“Guess that was a pretty tough fight,” Brock said, approaching the side of the cot and giving the jagged black-haired one a careful look-over. Sweeping a hand down the back of the other boy’s head, he felt a sizeable welt – withdrawing when the latter flinched with a grunt. “Yikes, that’s a doozy of a bump all right. Let me go get you some ice!” He turned to head back through the door to the room; then paused with a hand on the frame, smiling gently “Try to stay conscious – wouldn’t want you to black out for another eternity!” then disappeared again.

With a small weak chuckle and a light shake of his head, Ash sighed, half-wittingly reaching up to feel his wound – and likewise twitching with another wince and cry as he touched it. Eyes darting again, he frowned, mumbling “How in the heck did that happen during a battle? Did somebody hit me with a pokeball or what?”

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them with a brief teeth chatter and curling up – and somehow only now realized that he was shirtless and shoeless. Double-taking, he drew his head back with more bewildered blinking.

Glimpsing the tan one return, he noticed that he too was also missing his shirt and vest and sneakers. He shivered again when Brock set the traditional screw-top icepack on his head, but slowly relaxed. “Thanks, Brock,” he said quietly, “but hey, where are my clothes? Well, most of them, I mean.”

“In your locker where you put them earlier, safe and sound,” his friend assured quite casually. “Now try to take it easy. You’re not in another match until tomorrow, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest up and recharge. You want anything to eat?”

“Well, I –” the jagged black-haired one began.

“Well, well!” another all-too familiar, quite smug voice echoed.

“Huh?!”

Indeed, now in the doorway stood his old hometown rival – also sans shirt and shoes, arms folded, looking in with that same old gleeful grin. “That was some fight, Ash!”

“Hey, Gary…” Ketchum began slightly sheepish, “Uh, thanks!”

The light-brown-haired necklaced-one only laughed rather loudly, pitch jumping in incredulity “Jeez! Taking a crazy Lickyiicky lickling like that just to get the drop on your opponent – not surprised you nearly bonked your brains out,” then straightened himself with a head-turned, palms-up shrug.

Ash stared in very visible confusion. “Lick…lick-ull-ing? I mean…well…I’ll do just about anything to win a pokemon match. You know that!” He managed to faintly smile, feeling his confidence return.

It quickly vanished when the other two now stared at him with the same confusion. Gary even tilting his head as he bluntly asked “What’s a po-kay-mon?”

“WHAT?! Whaddaya mean?” Ketchum blurted, mind starting to reel again, pulse pounding numbly. “Aren’t we – didn’t I – isn’t this – I – it –!” adding in a wheeze under his breath “I wound up in a world without pokemon?!” Pausing, and continued to think out loud in a hiss “Does that mean I was actually really fighting? NO, wait – Gary mentioned Lickyiicky, though! THAT’S a pokemon – then how – why – what – whaa –?”

“Quiiilll!” came a cry, and in bounded his old Quilava, climbing up to flop in his lap. The jagged black-haired one would’ve been relieved – if he wasn’t again dumbfounded by the fact that the usual flames on its head and back were now fiery-colored fluff. Pointy and warm, but soft, and instantly tickly to the touch.

“Whaaaat the…?” Reflexively, he dug in his pocket for his pokedex, which he found, flipping it open. After the typical recognition beep pattern, the electronic voice read out the entry plain as day.

“Quillhava, the semiplume feather ticklemon and evolution of Gitchaquill. It can move quickly and known to be sneaky, able to throw its feathers up to 120 feet.”

“D-…did this thing just say…TICKLEmon?” Ash wondered aloud, brow raised high as he mirrored the head tilt, pulling the screen closer to his face to check the readout. “So…that means…the pokemon tickle each other instead of fighting?”

“HA! Wouldn’t that be easy street…” the young Oak scoffed. Pausing, he cocked a brow again, pointing, and reiterating “You feeling okay, Ash? How hard did you hit that head of yours?”

Clutching it with another wince, and giving his temples a rub with a groan, Ketchum said “I dunno…I guess – maybe I – I – I must have amnesia. I don’t remember ANYthing, except who I am. And I’m not even too sure about THAT right now!”

He didn’t see the others share a rather genuine concerned look, though Gary added “Aw, don’t tell me you’re pulling the old amnesia trick to wriggle out of your next match, Ketchum!”

“I’m not, I’m really not!” the jagged black-haired one insisted, brows convex. “I don’t know what happened but I can’t remember anything and it’s just making my head hurt more! Aaah…nnngh…!”

He felt the tan one give him a pat and a warm rub on the back. “I believe you, Ash!” he said, with a firm nod. “Listen, you just rest up right now, all right? Take a nap, take it easy. Then later I’ll get you some lunch and we can watch some of the afternoon matches. Hopefully that’ll jog your memory. Whaddaya say?”

“Mm…yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thanks again, Brock.” With a sigh, and now a genuine wide yawn, he slowly lay back on the cot, his head comfortably on the icepack and pillow. He tried to wrap his arms around the already snoozing pleasantly warm Quillhava, but its feathers kept tickling his palms and fingers. “HmhmHM! Hmhm…mmn…” With a last longer sigh and half-eyeroll, he let his arms drop to his sides as his eyelids slid shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another AngelBoy idea/reQ and another one that sends me into an ecstatic nostalgic overload. (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。 Dude, you always have the best, most fun ideas I've ever heard and thought on. You are AMAZING FUN FUNNY SWEET ADORABLE SO KINDLY UNDERSTANDING AND ULTRA INSPIRING – please never change! [٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRAIut0DUAE)


	2. Episode Two: Tickle Fight Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the World of Ticklemon!   
> (ノ＞▽＜。)ノ **コチョコチョコチョ**

The plainly titled ‘Recovery Center’ was much more expansive than a typical pokemon center, accommodating trainers and mons. There were locker rooms, showers, lounges, a cafeteria, and even rooms and equipment for basic strength and speed training as well as practice matches on mat-lain floors. Ketchum looked around this way and that like a Patrat on patrol, eyes wide. 

Brock looked on with a grin. “Everything starting to come back to you now, you think?”

“Nn…not quite,” the jagged black-haired one admitted, “But it all sure is interesting!”

“Sure. Ticklemon training is a lot tougher than people think. Especially if you’re a higher T-Class.”

“T-Class?” Ash echoed with an innocent blink. He had seen several designations of ‘T-1’, ‘T-2’, and ‘T-3’ but hadn’t really paid them any more mind than anything else.

“Oh, right – heh, well, your ticklishness level, of course.”

“Ah, yeah…guess that would be a thing. Heheh…” He scratched the back of his head with a casual grin – though he was unable to help his darting eyes, asking in a tiny-mouthed quiet voice “Uhh, what T-Class was I again?”

“T-3, almost a T-4.”  
“Oh! …wait, what’s a T-4?  
“Heh. Too ticklish to be a trainer!”

Ketchum’s eager wider eyes instantly narrowed as he sank in a hunch, mouth in a hard pout, almost at a stalk forward beside the tan one for a few moments in silence, cheeks in a blazing blush. Slowly calming, his shoulders rose, eyes sweeping back and forth again in super-conscious glances at the various other trainers they passed.

“Yep. You JUST squeaked by – but hey, you got this far, and that’s not bad.”

Ash’s wider eyes returned. “Yeah…yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, that’s good.” Another question bubbled up in his throat before he could stop it. “How many…ticklemon…do I have?”

“Well, six on your fighting team for the region, of course. But you filled your ‘dexes for Kanto and the Orange Islands. You said you wanted to take a little break from ticklemon catching for a while while you’re here.”

Hearing some more familiar words eased more of the edge off, letting the jagged black-haired one stand a little taller now, even smiling. “Wow, the WHOLE Po – I mean…Tickle…dex?! For BOTH Kanto AND the Orange Islands?”

“Yyyep.”

“That’s even more than I ever did back in my own world,” the shorter boy mumbled gleefully to himself. His face went blank for just a moment more as it slowly dawned on him that since the ‘mons were fairly different that the catching and general battle style was probably different. And had something to do with the aforementioned T-Class rankings. He snorted, giving his head a clearing shake. He’d worry about that after lunch – whereupon his stomach croaked loudly on cue.  
___

“A-heh-HEM.”

“Huh?” Ketchum uttered, blinking rapidly as a posted staff member at the entrance of the adjacent Trainers Only Café barred them from entry. With a semi-stern gaze, the man gestured to the sign.

NO SERVICE  
UNLESS  
NO SHOES  
NO SHIRT

With another irked pout, brief blush, and a “Hrmmm…!” to match, Ash tugged off his shirt that he’d hardly just put on, pulling out of his shoes one toe-to-heel at a time and setting them in the provided cubby before quickly walking inside. The air was perfectly temperate – but all this tickle talk had made putting more clothes on feel soothing. Now this. Of course.

The tan one only shook his head with a chuckle, shrugging at the man before following his suddenly befuddled friend.

While he gladly stuffed his mouth with food, Ketchum quietly fellow-diner-watched. There were quite a few ticklemon who had tagged along with their trainers, hanging around, chowing on ‘mon food beside them, or playfully antic-ing about, and indeed tickling. Like with Quillhava versus the Quilava he remembered, it was so strange to see several faintly familiar types – though with feathers in place of flame, or fur and fuzz in place of harder metal or rocky bodies.

“Guess rocks wouldn’t tickle very much…” he mused under his breath as he eyed what he overheard one trainer distinctly call a ‘Floofledude’. And then looked back at Brock sipping soup, and wondering what his team looked like, brow raised. “You’re a…gym leader right? Still?” 

“Hmm?” the tan one uttered, turning with a nod. “Of course! Pinwheel City Gym.”

“Pinwheel City? …right, right.” A longer pause with a guilty stare at his plate. “I know I must sound pretty stupid right now. But…thanks for believing me – about my amnesia. A-And explaining everything. Again, I’m sure.”

“You’re my FRIEND, Ash! I’d do anything for you, just about,” Brock said with no beat missed and another gentle back pat. “Besides, I know if I got knocked out hard enough to forget stuff, I’d want somebody there to help ME figure stuff out again, too.”

Ash smiled broadly for the first time this side of wherever he was, mirroring the taller boy’s earlier nod. Quickly finishing up the rest of his sandwich, he stood up, saying “C’mon! I wanna get a good seat for those matches – I need to study GOOD if I’m gonna get back in my groove!”

“Now that’s the Ash I remember!” Brock chimed. “You got it, let’s go!”  
___

“Welcome, folks, to the second half of the Johto Pro League!” the announcer’s voice rang from the speakers as the pair swiftly shuffled to their seats. “Today we have Harrison from Rachis Town versus Gary from Plumulace!”

“Plumulace…that must be this world’s version of Pallet Town…” the jagged black-haired one affirmed to himself, eyes now glued to the field.

Again, at a glimpse the stadium and people in it didn’t look all that different from a packed crowd awaiting a pokemon match – but as the two half-naked boys likewise finally made their entrance, they stood much closer to each other, right down on ground level. Teeth gritted albeit with cocky grins, they leaned forward striking rather complementary poses with fists clenched. It seemed to be a standard intro faceoff gesture, pressing the outer heels of their hands together for a moment, locking eyes as they wiggled their fingers before withdrawing as if they’d touched a hot stove.

“TICKLEMON…FIGHT!” the announcer commanded, whereupon the pair leaped back, finally drawing their monster balls – or ‘tickorns’ as Ketchum had overheard them referred to. Meaning that the things must’ve been made similarly from apricorns like in the world he remembered.

“Go, Tiklya!” Harrison beckoned, releasing what looked much like a Tangela but much fluffier and fuzzier, several of its vines having leafy sort of lobes that quickly undulated as it uncoiled them, like dozens of wiggling fingers, as it gave an affirming cry.

“C’mon out, Armpdup!” Gary called, unleashing what was surprisingly a Machamp with double the amount of arms – and the pairs on top and bottom having a few spikes on its knuckles and fingertips that looked as if they could snap shut like a lock; while the upper inner two had longer narrower but not sharp tips, perfect for poking at the rib height they rested, and the lower with a scattered bit of fuzz that likewise looked as if it would be tickle terror on a helpless midsection.

Ash found himself wincing and empathetically curling up with tightly wrapped arms and a shiver. He heard his tall friend’s friendly chuckle and felt another reassuring shoulder pat.

Now it was his old rival who spoke first, commanding “Armpdup, get over there, Strong Arm and Sensless Tickle that rookie!”

“Not if my Tiklya Flip Snares and Tendril Wrap Tickles you first!” Durant countered, “GO!”

The mons made their lunges, Armpdup indeed finally snagging a fleeing Harrison cuff-lock tight wrist and ankle in its outer hands before letting its inner fingers fly, dancing almost gracefully up and down the shorter-lighter-brown-haired boys ribs and digging mercilessly into his stomach and hips.

His blue eyes bulged before shutting tightly in a cringe “BAHAHAA! Geheheh! AHAHAHAAA!” the ‘mon’s grip giving him little room to writhe.

The Oak boy managed to dodge the Tiklya’s grabs for a bit longer – but once caught off guard for enough of a second, got hoisted up high upside-down as its lobe-bearing tendrils wrapped snugly around his trunk and limbs, wiggling intensely. Gary made an anticipatory flinch – but still visibly jumped, jaws popping with a “HaHAHAhahaha! Gnnghh! GAHAHAHAhaaa!”

“And the top-tier tickling has officially begun!” The announcer stated with a gleeful chuckle of his own, “WHO will last until the last round?! It’s going to be a close, terribly ticklish fight!”

The crowd roared, a scattering of tickle taunts rustling through. Brock chucklesnorted, adding “This match is T-1 Class – so the prizes are higher, but whoever loses sure doesn’t live it down for a LONG time!”

“T-1?” the jagged black-haired one echoed again. The ‘least ticklish’ class. “Gary’s T-1?!” A pause, and another pout with a mumble of “T-1000, maybe…” and an arm fold “C’mon, Tiklya…” before immediately sitting up and pumping an arm. “I know Gary’s more ticklish than that! You can get him good!”

“Heheh…fights are hard to do, but pretty fun to watch, huh, Ash?” the tan one mused.

“Yeah, especially when back-to-Square-One-snob Gary’s in the middle of it!” Ketchum noted. He withheld from lobbing a taunt loud enough to be heard by the fighters as a couple other spectators around them had done, but he couldn’t help practicing some in his head, brows lowering over a grin.

The match dragged on; not as much jumping and attacking as a pokemon battle but there was plenty of movement as the captured trainers thrashed and guffawed. They twisted and jerked and flailed, trying to free themselves while still struggling to give red-faced commands to their own ‘mons.

“GOHO for the TOHOES, TIHIkylAHAA!”  
“ChaHAHAngeUHUp thiHIhighs and AHAharmpiHIts, ArmpDUHUP!”

With an acknowledging nod, the fuzzy vine ticklemon sent its tendrils wrapping further along the young Oak’s feet like slipper socks, snaking thoroughly between his toes before resuming its buzzing wiggle. Gary visibly jumped, eyes popping briefly from their cringe, back arching with a much more vicious thrash and head flail “PppAHAHAHAA! EHEEYAAAHAHAHA! CHEHEATER!”

Harrison didn’t fare much better as the multi-armed ‘mon dug and raked its fingers into Durant’s inner thighs, its thinner fingers madly raking and circling under his arms – getting a similarly sudden reaction, the Rachis Towner even making its rigid grabbing arms shake. “YAHAHAIIEEHE! NOHOHAHA! YOHOUHOUHAHAHA!”

“And both trainers are going for the gusto now!” the announcer egged on. “Will Gary or Harrison tucker out first? It looks like neck and tickled neck from here, folks!”

In a blink, finally, Durant seemed to fold, head hanging forward and reducing the blur of movement on his side of the field. As Armpdup tapered off its tickling, Ash could see that he was still breathing hard, but looked very dazed – not unlike a pokemon deemed unable to continue.

“AaaaAaand Harrison’s slumped! GARY from Plumalace wins by a whisker!”

“DARNIT!” Ketchum found himself grumbling with a swing of a fist. “Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.”


	3. Episode 3: Cichycoo, I See You!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could it be? 

“T-1 fights are a battle of wills, really,” the tan one said, “More like a ticklemon chess match. Each trainer focuses on trying to block out the tickling, though they can’t help squirming around a little bit.”

“Gotcha…” the jagged black-haired one noted, as they followed the crowd out of the stadium. “But wait, what about T-2 and T-3 fights then? You mean they’re different?”

With a palm-upturned shrug, Brock went on “Well, since the fighters in those classes are much MUCH more ticklish, you’ll see a lot more moving around. Often trainers wind up spazzing themselves and the ticklemon right out of the ring! Among other things…and sometimes end up hurting themselves.”

Ash twitched at the implication, but then frowned, facing forward with a momentary haze in his eyes. “Like I did…”

“Yep,” the taller boy said, wrapping an arm around him. “But those’re the breaks of being a T-3 Ticklemon Trainer and Fighter!”

“Uhhh, s-…speaking of, Brock…” Ketchum began, sweatdropping, “When IS my next fight?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning! But you’ll DEFINITELY be ready for it by then.”  
“Mm…maybe. I just hope you’re right!”

Suddenly, the shorter boy spied movement in the bushes near the path, pivoting and rapidly blinking. He swore he’d seen a flash of yellow, drawing in a slow gasp. “…Pikachu?” he practically mouthed. Heart pounding, he took off running, quite literally diving into the foliage after it.

“Hey, Ash, wait!” the tan one said with a twitch, scrambling after.  
___

Peering out from the bush at the edge of the clearing he’d come to, Ketchum watched the heart-tuggingly familiar-looking ‘mon as it looked around, scratched itself, then sniffed and scanned for nuts and berries, finding one to chew on.

Ash turned as he heard more rustling, Brock crawling up beside him. “Oh wow, it’s a Cichycoo! Thos’re SUPER rare around here.”

“A what?” the shorter boy said, once more digging out his ‘dex as inconspicuously as he could.

“Cichycoo, the playful pal-around ticklemon. It’s tickle-tricity can often stun or completely K.O. other unsuspecting ticklemon or humans.”

“Okay, Cichycoo, then…”

Its basic body shape was the same, and color – though the jags of its tail were rounder, the tip looking faintly like a reaching hand while the base looked more like the quill end of a feather. Its cheeks had the same faint ‘grabbing fingers’ shape; the black on its ears and the brown stripes on its back looked more feathery.

“I want it, I want one – I want THAT one!” Ketchum declared softly, crawling the rest of the way out of the bush before brushing himself off and standing up. 

The Cichycoo froze, turned, then ran off – but only hid behind a nearby tree, ear twitching as it observed the boy.

“Let’s see…if ticklemon fighting means a trainer tickle fight with pokemon, then that must mean to catch ticklemon you…” He paused, another short blank stare of realization. “Gotta get tickled.” Giving his head a shake “Grrmm, okay, fine! C’mon out, Quillhava!” he plucked his own pocketed tickorn and summoned the semiplume ‘mon. “Uhh…”

Said ‘mon only gave a cry of “Quillhav!” before seeming to recognize its surroundings; turning and beginning to lap quite eagerly at its trainers toes.

“YAAHAhahaha! WAHAIhait! DoHOHOHOn’t –!” Ash yelped, jumping and doubling over. However, through a half-flinch, he saw that he’d at least caught the Cichycoo’s attention. “OhoHOkay, keeHEEp ihit UHUP I gueHEss!”

Slowly, the yellow ‘mon emerged from behind the tree, observing the clearly highly ticklish human. “Cichy? Coooo…”

“ThaHAt’s it…c’moHOHOn…ahaHAaaHA! I – AHAhahe’m tickliHIsh! Dohon’t you wanna tiHIckle meHEhe too?”

“Ci…CICHY!” At last, the ‘mon seemed to take the boy up on his offer, now happily pouncing and tackling the jagged black-haired one and sitting on his stomach while endlessly poke-poke-poking at his ribs. “CichyCichycichycichycichyyyy!”

Ketchum thumped his thankfully healed head back onto the grass, jaws as wide as they’d open, stomach pounding, shrill laughter going silent. His ribs were his weakspot, and between the not-quite-Pikachu’s assault on them while the Quillhava kept licking and brushing its tickly feather-fluff over his soles and toes he began to feel dizzy.

Spying the tan one looking down at him, he managed to gulp down enough breath to wheeze “How…how do I catch…this thing?!”

“Just tap it with your tickorn and it should go right in!” Brock instructed.

Reluctantly peeling one arm away from his ribcage, Ash plucked out an empty ball and quickly bonked the Cichycoo on the noggin. With a last cry, it vanished into the thing in the usual flash of energy. With a relieved sigh through chuckling and panting for breath, he took the other ticklemon’s ball in his left hand and bid “Aaha! QuiHIhillhava…retuHUrn!”

He kept a tight grip on the freshly caught ticklemon, feeling the tickorn shake ticklishly of course in his palm. Finally though, it stopped, and the ball made a chime that sounded like a monosyllabic giggle – not unlike the Cichycoo’s own squeaking.

Laying there, still mostly breathless, the jagged black-haired boy stared at the quavering sky, listening to his drumming pulse and own heavy breaths, coughing and muttering with a groan “…no WONDER I caught all the ticklemon in Kanto! AND the Orange Islands.”


	4. Episode 4: Trainer Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash continues to discover just how ticklish he is, much to his dismay. ☚(ﾟヮﾟ☚)
> 
> Also Ash and Gary's classic rivalry really shows! (Like this, but imagine them pretty much half-naked...because they are. Can we get a photoshop on that, pretty please with delicious classic [Pokemon cereal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=peVXyCIUMEA&t=0m15s) in milk?! LMAO)

“You ready for your big day, Ash? Heh, your big debut!”  
“My first league ticklemon fight, sure! Well, first one I remember, anyway…”  
“That’s the spirit!”

League fighters had a fairly strict hygiene regimen: a thorough hot shower, oil massage, and something called a ‘pediprep’ – a thorough pedicure of sorts required for all participating trainers. It made sense considering their tendency to go barefoot on all kinds of terrain, which certainly made for tougher, duller, even highly calloused soles. Still, Ketchum couldn’t help curl his toes at the sight of the section: chairs, chairs, everywhere, and apparently very many specially trained trainer podiatrists; almost one per seat. Naturally, they were again arranged according to T-Class. The jagged black-haired boy muffled a gulp and stepped up to the line on the floor as his eyes darted.

“Ketchum, Ash? High T-3?” an older brown-haired man with small glasses called.

Not realizing he’d briefly flashed another pout at his rank, Ash acknowledged “Yeah, here!” with a small clearing head shake “I mean…that’s me, yes, thanks!”

“Right this way!” the bespectacled one chimed with a smile, though his grip on the boy’s wrist was rather firm. He led him to a corner chair near the back, and rather happily seemed to swing him into it. “Now, you just relax! Let me handle this…”

“Hey!” Ash yelped. The moment his jeans hit the cushion, small but sturdy leather cuffs sprung from the arms and single leg footrest – though any feet propped on this bar were in for anything but rest. He gritted his teeth, curling his toes again, and tighter.

He twitched, eyes wider when he heard a mushrooming buzzing noise and saw what it belonged to: a top-tier electric sole sander in bright regional colors, the sleek sander bit itself iconic silver. “You ready?” his for-all-intents-and-purposes groomer asked, to which the jagged black-haired one actually hiccupped. “Well, that’s a first, but I’ll take it as a big brave super-bold Johto ‘YES’! Hehah!”

“W – Well, I YAAAHAHAHA!” Ketchum quickly burst out guffawing as the spinny shiny roller touched his right heel, sliding close around it, his handler using a very meticulously thorough close pattern; almost as if it and the rest of the boy’s foot were a complicated art piece due at a gala under glass. As the sparkling silver quartz milimetered onto less albeit-hardly-rough-patches-to-begin-with, Ash laughed louder and higher, doubling-over red-faced with a mustered protest of “HEheHEy HEY! Ahaha! AHAhahaem’m gonna be kaHAy-oHOed before my maHAhatch even STAHAHARTS! EheHEEheasy with that THIHIng!”

The practiced brunet didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Such is the challenge of T-3 Class Pediprepper – but I assure you, you’ll be in perfect condition for your match. And if any of the others are worth their TMs, so will your oponents. No worries, Ash!”

As the bespectacled professional gave the right a last once-over then resumed his well-worn work on the jagged black-haired one’s left foot, Ash uttered his quietest though whiniest giggles yet, insisting in an equally low, indeed already defeated sounding voice “Brohohooock, HELP meHE…aaaHAhaha! I thiHIhink I’m gonna dieheheheHEheeee…!” and even more quietly realized to himself “Hehey! I guehess rocks DOho tickle! …just not rock-type poho – eheh, er tihicklemon!”

With a very sympathetic shiver and sheepish face, the tan one shrugged with flat palms. “The first one’s always the worst,” he noted, then paused, “Well, and the second…and the third…fourth, fifth, definitely sixth – well, the point is, once you’ve won a few league battles, THEN it DEFINITELY gets easier!”

“AaaaAAHAhahaha! You’re not heHElpiHIhing!” Pausing, he redirected his frustration to his Pediprepper. “C’mohoHOhon, you’ve GOTTA be almost dohohone by naHAHAhaow!”

Having just finished with the curves of the boy’s toes, the brunet confirmed “Finished with the first part, of course, YES! But your feet will still need another solid suds and a good oil and massage before you’re ready to set any single one of these ticklish toes down on official fight terrain!”

“What?! Another wash?! AND a crazy tickly massage!? PLEASE tell me you’re kidding!”  
“Nonsense! I take my position as seriously as anything! And this league has standards, you know!”  
“Do any of the other leagues have…different standards then?”  
“Oh yes – much, MUCH more strict!”

Ketchum twitched tensely, blinking wide eyes – then despite himself, bore another stubborn pout.

“Hey, ya mind keepin’ it down over there in the Kid-3 Korner?” came a sneer. It was T-1 rival Oak himself, in the midst of his own pediprep across the way. And looking none too tormented for the wear so far, even leaning back to resume casually skimming an exclusive trainer magazine from the lunchroom.

Baring gritted teeth, albeit beneath quivering lips, and brows he struggled to angle as his own prep continued, the jagged black-haired one asked Brock “Hehey! Is it illegal around heHEre for different T-Classes to ticklemon fight or anything? Just a one-on-one match? Iihf we both hahave time?”

“Sure, don’t see why not, off the course, of course!” the tan one replied. “Buuut you do – well, shoot, I guess you don’t remember Gary kinda kicking your butt several times just on the way here, let alone all the OTHER times you guys tangled before. But I mean…if you really want to, then –”

“Wait, wait, wait – WAIT waitwaitwait WAITWAIT –!” the Oak boy began, to the point even his Pediprepper paused with a blink and a brow raised. “Tickled by ‘em all in seconds Ash wants another friendly little ticklemon fight with ME? After what happened up and down the LAST two leagues you insisted on stalking me to?”

“Yeah! Because heck, I DON’T remember any of that now! So I WILL kick – er, tickle – or, well …– I’ll beat you! Doesn’t matter! I saw your matches, I KNOW where to send the tickles tangling to beat you, Gary! Even if it takes a little longer!”

“Heh, well, uh, yeah, so do I – but what the heck, you’re on, Ketchum! I’ll gladly see you pull that sacrifice lickle-ly stunt again. Even if you won’t be getting the one up on me like that other Too-Close-to-T4 you wound up lucking out matching with!” He paused, turning to extend a hand albeit that he couldn’t have possibly reached Ash’s. Though, he did repeat the traditional ticklemon fight start gesture, emphasizing “Ticklemon Fight, Plumaloser!”

With a smirk, Ketchum raised his hand to mimic the gesture and seal the deal – then instead put thumb tip to his nose and wiggling his fingers with an outstretched tongue. He hadn’t really considered if that sort of gesture meant the one he intended from his pre-Ticklemon World memory – only letting his shoulders rise what little the chair allowed when Gary and the others looked a bit shocked at it.

Then he saw the Oak boy snort with a slightly raised brow. “Beat me in one move? You? ME? Now? Here? With all the –...” Trailng off with a head shake and another glinting grin, he continued “If THAT’S true, if you can do that, Ash, somehow – all because of this ‘amnesia’ baloney or not – then I’ll not only admit you’re one heck of a ticklemon trainer, but I’ll throw in the tickle stick and stick to being a ticklemon researcher like my grandpa. No bluff!”

Ash took a moment to process this unintentional badass boast – then grinned ear-to-ear, chin-to-chest genuinely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the [feet sanders](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XkRX7orjeM&t=0m16s) are a thing in our universe too. So I hear they can be just as terrible a tickle tool if wielded correctly.  
> (੭ु´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ु⁾⁾


End file.
